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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899053">heebiejeebies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anons/pseuds/anons'>anons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>99-02 line live in one residence hall, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anons/pseuds/anons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chenle is the one who rejected Sungchan. So why does it feel like the other way around?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Sungchan/Zhong Chen Le</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>heebiejeebies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="https://wattpad.com/story/258859328">vietnamese translation</a> by camominle</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Word goes out in the Neo residence hall that Jung Sungchan had been rejected by Zhong Chenle. The rumour spreads in three days like wildfire: quick and torrid and with no concrete proof as to who started it. Chenle is one of the last few boarders to come back from Winter break and when he finds out about it, it’s a little too late to fix everything. Besides, it’s not like he can erase himself out of the narrative or make excuses. He can’t exactly deny the allegations that spread while he was gone either.</p><p>Especially not when the rumours are true.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Renjun chirps pleasantly, and Chenle already knows what he wants to talk about before he even starts. “How have you been lately?”</p><p>Chenle decides to play dumb.</p><p>“Uh,” he says to the bed, lying face-first, “Pretty good. Some of my relatives visited over the break. They stayed for a while to celebrate.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“I brought back two jars of shrimp chilli paste. They’re in the refrigerator, if you want some.”</p><p>“Cool, thanks,” Renjun dismisses impatiently. “Anything else?”</p><p>Chenle turns to him, cheek sandwiched against his newly-laundered sheets. “Not much, really.”</p><p>“You sure?” Renjun hums, to which Chenle doesn’t respond. “Chenle?”</p><p>His response sounds weak even to his ears. “Yes, I’m sure.” He watches as Renjun puts the last of his clothes in the closet, carefully-ironed fabric under equally careful hands, and presses his face back to the bed. Renjun snorts. The bed dips and suddenly, there are fingers pressing down on Chenle’s back like a threat. Renjun says, “Nothing else you’d like to share? Something that happened before holidays, perhaps?”</p><p>He remains mum so Renjun presses a bit harder.</p><p>“Fine,” Chenle concedes, turning his face to the side again, “Something <em>may </em>have happened.” His expression turns sour. “And you can stop pretending to not know. I heard the others whispering about it earlier.”</p><p>Renjun smiles beautifully. “I didn’t say I didn’t know anything.”</p><p>Chenle tries not to roll his eyes. “Okay well,” he says, lifting himself up with his elbows, “You know how we had that dorm Christmas party before break? I disappeared in the middle of it, right? And you guys sent Sungchan to check up on me, right?” Renjun tilts his head. “Well, when he did, we kind of talked a bit and something happened so he kind of, uh, confessed to me—” He swallows. “And I kind of rejected him.”</p><p>….</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Have you guys talked since then?”</p><p>“No. I wanted to reach out but didn’t want to ruin his break,” Chenle mumbles. “He hasn’t replied at all in the group chat too. I checked.”</p><p>Renjun looks at him pitifully. “Maybe he was busy? With family?”</p><p>He shrugs but it’s clear they both don’t buy the theory. “Maybe.” And there must be something in his face that screams <em>I WOULD RATHER DRINK ARSENIC THAN TALK ABOUT IT </em>because Renjun pats his back one last time and ends the minefield discussion there.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sungchan comes around on a Tuesday.</p><p>He’d arrived only the night before, when everyone had been asleep, and it’s the first time Chenle has seen him since the break. He walks into the cafeteria and beelines straight for the coffee stand. Dejun, who apparently has heard about all the drama from Hendery who heard it from Yangyang who heard it from Jeno who heard it from Donghyuck who heard it from Renjun, looks between Chenle and Sungchan with wary eyes.</p><p>Of course, Chenle immediately turns to his trusty phone for distraction.</p><p>“Oh, it’s Sungchan,” Yangyang says, and somewhere in Yukhei’s brain that must translate to <em>quick, wave him over! </em>so he does, flailing his arms around for the entire cafeteria to see despite Dejun’s quiet warning looks. Sungchan walks over after ordering coffee and Chenle despairs over the fact that Yukhei can’t ever take a hint for once in his life. He stares at his phone. Why he’s on the calculator app, he has no idea either.</p><p>“Hey,” Yangyang says, and from the corner of his eyes Chenle can see him indiscreetly looking over. “Just woke up? What time are your classes?”</p><p>“Yeah. I have Art History at 10:30,” Sungchan replies.</p><p>Donghyuck chirps in to ask, “In the AV rooms?” and when Sungchan nods, he says, “You gotta finish that coffee fast, then. You know drinks and food aren’t allowed there.”</p><p>“Not when they don’t catch you.” Chenle can hear the grin in his voice.</p><p>“Jesus,” Donghyuck laughs. “You’ve been hanging out with us too much.”</p><p>Sungchan chuckles and it’s a surprising sound. It spills naturally like he hadn’t gone off-kilter for two weeks and hadn’t gotten his heart broken. When he finally excuses himself to get his coffee, the whole table basks in the surprise.</p><p>Donghyuck starts it. “Are we sure that kid had his heart broken? He looks okay to me.”</p><p>The rest of the table jumps on the topic as if Chenle isn’t sitting <em>right there</em>. Still on the calculator app, he pretends he’s adding the number of possible casualties if he were to hypothetically set this cafeteria on fire. Mark, the dubious voice of reason, speaks up: “He might be pretending for all we know. But really, it’s not our business to talk about it.”</p><p>“He’s good at acting,” Yangyang says.</p><p>“Either that or he moves on pretty quickly.” Donghyuck glances at Chenle meaningfully.</p><p>“I’m going to take a nap in the locker room before my classes start,” Chenle announces, abruptly standing up. He flashes them a smile that hopefully spells unbothered. “See you all in the afternoon.”</p><p>For some reason, he feels oddly affected. And as he walks to the hallway, he does his best to reorient his thoughts and forget about the whole ordeal.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Except he can’t. Especially when there’s an unavoidable, thawing guilt clawing at his chest. There’s also their shared afternoon class (Chenle only knows this because of Donghyuck; how Donghyuck knows, he has no idea). If Chenle doesn’t apologize properly then they’ll be awkward for the rest of the semester. This, and the fact that Sungchan is still—first and foremost—his friend.</p><p>So, of course:</p><p>“Sungchan, hey,” Chenle says, catching the taller boy by the vending machines after he’d rerouted from the locker rooms to find him after a long inner debate. “You going to your next class?”</p><p>He catches the surprise in Sungchan’s eyes before it’s schooled back to normal. “Yeah. You?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Chenle lies. He doesn’t have class until 12.</p><p>“Oh, cool. What’s up?”</p><p>“Well, um,” he turns nervous, “Listen, about the… thing before Winter break.”</p><p>“Thing?”</p><p>“Yeah, you know.” He looks around awkwardly. “When you confessed. I just wanted to, um, apologize about the whole thing. What I did was a total dick move. I should’ve turned you down properly and explai—”</p><p>“Oh,” Sungchan cuts him off. “It’s fine.”</p><p>Chenle’s mouth snaps shut. “What?”</p><p>“I said it’s fine, Chenle-yah,” Sungchan says. “I completely understand you, and it’s not a big deal at all. Just as long as this doesn’t damage our friendship, right?</p><p>Chenle blinks, confused. “Yeah. Yes, of course.”</p><p>“This won’t affect our relationship, right?”</p><p>“No, no. Not at all!”</p><p>Sungchan sips his coffee. Then, like nothing’s happened at all, he smiles and—wait what? “Okay, that’s good.”</p><p>“Good.” Chenle looks at his smile, then down, and then he says, “I have to sprint to my next class. See you later.” And when he runs to the opposite direction, away from where all the department buildings are because he’s obviously distracted and very thrown-off, Sungchan doesn’t say anything about it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Sungchan is three minutes late to Music Theory, and Chenle tries not to make his relief too obvious when he claims a seat next to Chenle with a casual smile.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After class, he manages to drag Jisung out of his dorm room. They slink off to a café they frequent and order a for-two limited edition drink taller than Jisung’s hand.</p><p>Chenle only manages to get it out of his system halfway through the drink.</p><p>“I did something.”</p><p>Jisung briefly looks up but looks down again to continue aggressively sipping.</p><p>He glares until Jisung straightens out. “I did something,” he repeats, “I finally talked to Sungchan.”</p><p>“Oh. Did you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, and when he notices the rapt expression on Jisung’s face, he is immediately put on edge. “Oh god, how much do you know?”</p><p>“Not much!” Jisung waves both his hands in front of his face defensively. “Just that you rejected him during the party and haven’t talked since.”</p><p>“And you heard nothing else?”</p><p>“I heard nothing else,” Jisung confirms. “No details.”</p><p>“Who did you hear it from?”</p><p>Jisung mutters.</p><p>“Speak up, Jisung,” he says impatiently.</p><p>“Um, from Sungchan himself?”</p><p>Chenle bursts. “What? He told you? And you didn’t tell me he told you? And that you knew?” he looks at Jisung’s grimace. “When were you planning to tell me?”</p><p>Jisung snorts. “When were <em>you </em>planning to tell me?”</p><p>“Well, I was—” he stammers, “Whatever! I was going to! After break! I wanted you to be the first one to know but <em>someone </em>tattled over break and now the entire student body knows.”</p><p>Jisung raises both palms up. “Not me and certainly not Sungchan either.”</p><p>“Well, who did it then?!”</p><p>“Does it matter?” Jisung says, “It’s out now. And it doesn’t change the fact that you’re both still not in talking terms.”</p><p>Chenle’s mouth purses. “Well, actually.”</p><p>Jisung gapes. “No.”</p><p>“Yeah, I talked to him,” he admits. “I cornered him near the vending machines earlier and we talked.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And I started apologizing, you know,” he explains. “But then he cuts me off and tells me it’s okay and it’s not a big deal and stuff. And you know what else he said?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He said it’s all good as long as it doesn’t affect our friendship and he <em>smiled</em>.”</p><p>Jisung laughs in disbelief. With thinly-veiled amusement, he says, “No offence, but that sounds like the line of the one rejecting, not the one being rejected.”</p><p>Chenle groans, burying his face in his hands. “I know! I was so confused.”</p><p>“Don’t set the table on fire now,” he grins. “Why’d you do it anyway?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Why’d you reject him?”</p><p>Chenle shoots him an alarmed look. “What do you mean <em>why?</em>”</p><p>“Dunno. Just, you know.” Jisung shrugs but doesn’t elaborate. “Anyway, are you gonna drink your share? Because if you’re not, I’m drinking all of it.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Chenle shakes the snow off his parka when he steps in. Half-wilted tulips (these are Renjun’s dying plant children) and three more flights of stairs greet him. He groans and drags his cold, tired feet to the common room instead.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” starts Chenle, beginning to mouth off to whoever it is in the obviously occupied room, “how they don’t just install elevators in this house.”</p><p>When he sees it’s Sungchan on the couch, he says, “Oh,” and doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud.</p><p>Sungchan looks up from his phone. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.” Then, his brain momentarily blanks before he thinks <em>fuck it </em>as he goes to lie on the space next to Sungchan. He tucks his feet to the back of his thighs and makes sure they don’t touch Sungchan. “Sorry, I’m just so tired. Is this okay?”</p><p>“No problem.” Sungchan scoots over to give him more leg space. “Cold out there, huh?”</p><p>Chenle exhales and thinks maybe they can have this. Maybe they can go back to normal and be Chenle-and-Sungchan from before the incident. Maybe it is possible. He says, “It’s freezing and I can’t feel my feet.”</p><p>“You can stretch out if you want. I don’t mind.”</p><p>“No, it’s alright. I don’t want to kick you off the couch.”</p><p>“You won’t,” Sungchan hums to his phone. “You don’t take up much space anyway.”</p><p>Chenle narrows his eyes. “Are you calling me <em>short?</em>”</p><p>Sungchan looks up and when he sees Chenle’s glare, his mouth stubbornly stretches to an amused smile despite his obvious attempts to tamp it down. “I didn’t say that,” he says.</p><p>“You implied it!”</p><p>“No, I didn’t,” he laughs, fingers coming up to wrap around Chenle’s ankle. “Come on. Your feet will cramp.” And then he pulls it forward until Chenle’s other ankle follows and the heels of his feet touch Sungchan’s hip. “Just ‘cos you’re tall doesn’t mean you get to boss me around,” Chenle chides to distract himself from the startling warmth.</p><p>Sungchan laughs. “I wouldn’t even dream of bossing you around.”</p><p>At that moment, the front door opens and Renjun turns from the hallway mid-question, saying, “Does anyone else wanna chip in money for take-outs? We were planning to get chicken—” and he stops, mouth snapping shut when he sees them both. Yangyang hits Renjun’s back when he abruptly stops, Donghyuck hits Yangyang’s, and they stumble at the domino effect like they’re characters straight out of a fucking cartoon show. And because the universe hates Chenle (<em>guess what, Chenle? </em>he imagines it saying, <em>You can’t have this!!!!!!</em>), Shotaro enters the house at that exact moment, goes straight to the common room, and takes one look at them on the couch to say, “Oh!” with a delighted smile that’s somehow worse than all three of Donghyuck, Yangyang, and Renjun’s knowing looks combined.</p><p>Chenle sits up, flustered. He doesn’t dare look at Sungchan, his previous thoughts shutting down helplessly like water down a drain, because of course it’s never gonna be that easy especially when your housemates are nosier than cheek-pinching aunts over the holidays.</p><p>Well. So much for wishful thinking.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He gives it two hours before the news start circulating in the house. Jung Sungchan and Zhong Chenle found interacting and laughing earlier this afternoon. And hear this: Sungchan had his hand around Chenle’s ankle! Are they secretly a thing now? Or have they settled matters and accepted just being friends?</p><p>Renjun thinks they talked amicably and decided to try staying friends even despite the awkwardness.</p><p>Donghyuck believes Sungchan’s feelings aren’t serious at all which is why he instantly moved on from the whole thing.</p><p>Yangyang bets they’re secretly dating now after a long, heartfelt talk.</p><p>And Chenle says, “Betting over my life decisions again?” as he enters the room, his <em>own </em>shared room with Renjun so sudden it makes Renjun shriek. “Oh, Chenle,” he laughs nervously, “We were just talking about the plot of a foreign movie. It’s called the um—”</p><p>“The Unexpected Case of a Failed Confession,” Yangyang says in straight English.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s an indie Taiwanese movie,” Donghyuck agrees smoothly. “We were betting on the ending, right Renjun-ah?”</p><p>“Right, yeah!”</p><p>Chenle snorts, snatching his towel off a hanger behind the door. Under his breath, he says, “I’m copyrighting my life story and suing that movie,” and walks to the bathroom, hoping he can wash away the oddness of it all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, it gets worse.</p><p>What Chenle isn’t prepared for is the amount of self-consciousness he suddenly acquires around Sungchan. What sucks more is the fact that he wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for their friends’ poorly-concealed knowing looks and side-eyes which Chenle has done his very best to ignore.</p><p>He isn’t thick-skinned enough to ignore everything, unfortunately.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Morning,” Sungchan mumbles, sleepy limbs tumbling into the kitchen.</p><p>Chenle looks from where he’d been washing the dishes. “Morning,” he greets. “Sleep well?”</p><p>“Eh,” he grimaces.</p><p>“Well, there’s breakfast on the table to make the day less shit.”</p><p>Sungchan groans. “You’re the best.” From the table, Dejun’s eyes dart between them contemplatively. Chenle ignores the strange embarrassment seeping through and levels him with a challenging look. Dejun just shrugs and resumes picking on his rice.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Chenle does it because Donghyuck had been complaining about extended training hours a little too loudly recently. And because he’s an amazing friend. With both Donghyuck and Sungchan in the soccer team it’s only proper, as an amazing friend, for Chenle to surprise them a bit. Plus, he gets a little bored in the afternoon. Other than that, there’s not much to it, really.</p><p>“You’re an angel on earth,” Donghyuck groans, making grabby hands at the cooler. “Are you sure you’re not an angel? Because to me you are. You’re heaven-sent.”</p><p>Chenle laughs. “You’re all putty in front of a Coke can.”</p><p>“We’re all putty during practice,” Donghyuck says, holding the can like it’s made of gold. “For real, though, thank you. Not just for the drink.” He nudges a teammate’s sweaty head face-down on the floor. “I’m pretty sure Coach Yuta wouldn’t have stopped us from doing laps if you hadn’t arrived.”</p><p>“I did what I had to do.” He scans the Coke-wielding, pitiful-looking crowd of soccer players. “Where’s Sungchan?”</p><p>Donghyuck’s eyes light up in interest. “Why?”</p><p>Chenle looks away and shrugs.</p><p>Donghyuck hums. Chenle ignores him to grab a Coke can from the cooler and carefully walk past the immobile body (Is he okay, genuinely?) on the floor. “He went to the bathroom, I think,” Donghyuck calls out after him with a wry tone.</p><p>Chenle waves him off.</p><p>As he crosses the field, he sees Sungchan walk out of the bathroom and crouch to tie his shoelaces five steps in. Chenle meets him halfway to press the can to his cheek. Sungchan flinches, startled. Chenle cackles.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Sungchan laughs once he’s gotten over the shock.</p><p>“I come bearing gifts,” Chenle says, handing him the can which he dubiously accepts. “You weren’t around when I arrived and it’s been five minutes since then. Bathroom emergency?”</p><p>Sungchan stands up full-height. “Something like that.” He unhooks the can open. “Just between you and me, though, I sometimes pretend to get serious bathroom emergencies during punishment laps to get a break.” He grins, holding it halfway to his mouth. “Don’t tell Coach Yuta.”</p><p>Chenle waits until he’s drinking before turning around and yelling. “Coach!”</p><p>Sungchan nearly spits out his drink.</p><p>He laughs as they make chase across the soccer field. They stop by the bleachers where the coolers lie and the rest of the team occupy the elevated chairs like chess pieces.</p><p>“You’re pretty cool, Chenle,” Sungchan comments idly, looking around, and it’s a poor compliment but somehow has Chenle pleasantly flustered. When he looks, Donghyuck has his eyebrows raised sky-high at them.</p><p>“It’s nothing.”</p><p>Chenle has to pat himself on the back for not stammering.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” Sungchan says when he sees Chenle, “You look terrible.”</p><p>Chenle narrowly avoids saying something like <em>Says a lot about your type, huh</em>. Instead, he scowls at the snicker Jisung lets out beside Sungchan. “I just finished a paper and I’m tired as fuck but I can’t sleep,” he says, “Think I drank too much coffee earlier.”</p><p>“That sucks.” Sungchan presses his thumbs to the controller. “You should play with us for a while. It’ll tire you out eventually.”</p><p>Jisung shows his agreement by eagerly moving over to give him a seat.</p><p>Chenle drags a hand to his face. He probably looks like he hasn’t showered in days. Which is alright—Sungchan and Jisung understand. They’re his <em>friends</em>, for fuck’s sake. They’ve seen him in worse states. But Sungchan’s still looking, uncaring even though Jisung’s Yoshi is handing Sungchan’s Bowser ass to himself on the screen, and suddenly, he feels very, very self-conscious.</p><p>“Well?” Sungchan asks.</p><p>“Yeah, alright, let me just wash my face,” he mutters, averting his gaze.</p><p>Sungchan’s brows furrow. “You don’t need to do that. It’ll wake you even more.”</p><p>“I’ll be back in a minute.”</p><p>“Chenle—”</p><p>And he turns on his heels fast but not fast enough to avoid the look of confusion etched on both their faces. When he comes back after cleansing and meticulously untangling the clumped strands of his hair, it’s almost three minutes later and it’s clear that Sungchan has already let the whole thing go.</p><p>Jisung hasn’t.</p><p>“Did you brush your hair?” Jisung asks in a disbelieving whisper, making sure Sungchan doesn’t hear or notice. Nosy <em>but </em>mindful, Chenle has to give him that.</p><p>Still, he ignores him.</p><p>“What is happening?” Jisung looks amazed and confused and like he’s on the brink of a realization. Sungchan lets a frazzled Chenle steal the controller without a question. He beats Jisung’s ass in two back-to-back games as revenge.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” says Renjun one night as they hang in the common room.</p><p>“Noticed what?” Chenle asks, and at that exact moment, Hendery comes to the room with new headphones (they’re hot pink this time) dangling from his neck. He sits on the couch across Renjun and Chenle.</p><p>“You’ve been acting different around Sungchan.”</p><p>Hendery freezes. Awkwardly, he says, “I’m going to play my music really loudly now,” and he does, Mac Miller rapping through the headphones so loud they can hear the whole first verse like it’s blaring through mini speakers.</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean,” Chenle says.</p><p>“I can’t put it to words. It’s like, you’re trying to prove something?”</p><p>Heart to his throat, Chenle says, “Huh?”</p><p>“Maybe it’s just me,” Renjun considers. Chenle looks at Hendery visibly trying to sink into the couch and then directs his gaze to the hall and hopefully wishes Sungchan doesn’t enter the room at that very moment. “But whenever I see you guys interact it’s like,” Renjun tilts his head, “you’re trying to act extra cool when you’re with him? If that makes sense.”</p><p>Chenle swallows. “Now why would I do that?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Chenle.” Renjun shrugs. “Why would you?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Just to clear things, Chenle hasn’t been “acting cool” lately, excuse you. And even if he hypothetically is, why should he care about what someone like Renjun has to say about it anyway? He certainly doesn’t feel scathed by the absolutely baseless accusation. Not at all.</p><p>He conveniently forgets to drain the water from Renjun’s jjapaguri that night.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s gonna be fine,” Chenle reassures.</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Sungchan says.</p><p>“You’re gonna be fine,” Chenle repeats, “He’s gonna be fine. Right, Jisung?”</p><p>Jisung nods vigorously.</p><p>“Yukhei?”</p><p>Yukhei hums his agreement, eyes trained to the road. Chenle looks at the meter going past eighty and thinks, <em>I don’t want to die yet please. </em>Earlier, Yukhei nearly ran through a passing cat in their haste. Sungchan called it an omen. Chenle called him an idiot.</p><p>Sungchan remains antsy beside him, saying, “I’m gonna get kicked out of the team. Coach Yuta is gonna ask me why I’m late and I’ll tell him I took a nap after class and forgot to set an alarm. Then, he’s gonna remember and get pissed about the team’s bus having to wait for me for 10 minutes. I’ll beg to get benched instead but he won’t allow me and he’ll whoop my ass after the match for even trying to negotiate. They’re gonna throw me out,” with his voice rising frantically by the minute. It’s the most unhinged Chenle has seen him.</p><p>Naturally, he snaps.</p><p>“Stop it,” he says, “You’re not gonna get kicked out and you’re certainly not getting a beating. We’re gonna make it.” He looks at Sungchan dead in the eye. “You’re gonna make it, okay? Trust me.”</p><p>Sungchan looks back. He opens his mouth, closes it, and settles with a defeated nod.</p><p>They do make it—miraculously.</p><p>Eight minutes into the match, they arrive and Chenle trails behind him. Seventeen minutes, his replacement returns to the bench and Donghyuck harasses Sungchan with a painful-looking headlock when he enters the field. Twenty minutes, a popcorn-wielding Jisung randomly says, “Sungchan’s guard dog—Chenle,” and fucking <em>giggles</em>.</p><p>Chenle glares at him. “<em>Excuse me?</em>”</p><p>“You kinda had a dangerous look in your eye earlier when he was talking to the Coach,” Jisung explains, “Like you were ready to force anyone you had to force just to let Sungchan participate in the game. You know, like a guard dog.”</p><p>Chenle gapes.</p><p>Jisung stretches his hand and smiles peaceably. “Popcorn?”</p><p>It’s a tight match. By the minute, the team morale sinks like the sun, obvious fatigue wearing their movements down. Then, Sungchan scores a goal a little bit past sunset and the whistle blows. He turns around wildly, disbelievingly, to look at the scoreboard glaring red for everybody to see. 4-2.</p><p>Even Chenle yells.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sungchan gets whisked away by his teammates and detained by Coach Yuta for a talking to and a congratulatory spiel so Chenle only manages to catch him by the parking lot after. Sungchan peels himself off of a teammate the moment he sees them.</p><p>“Hey,” he breathes out.</p><p>“Hey,” Chenle smiles.</p><p>“Coach Yuta is treating us to burgers to celebrate,” he says. “You guys are more than welcome to join.”</p><p>Yukhei ruffles his hair. “Thank you but I think I’ll pass.” He looks at Jisung and Chenle. “You can join them if you want and if you ever need a ride back, just call.”</p><p>“I have to study for mid-terms,” Jisung says sheepishly.</p><p>Chenle looks at Sungchan’s teammates. “I’ll have to pass for now, too,” he says, and doesn’t miss the smile on Sungchan’s face dimming by the tiniest fraction, “Sorry. Enjoy your night, okay?”</p><p>“Congrats on the win,” Yukhei says which Jisung parrots with a high-five. Chenle lingers for a bit as the two settle into the car after.</p><p>“You did really great,” Chenle tells him.</p><p>“Nah.” Sungchan jams his hands into his pockets. “I wouldn’t have made it here if it weren’t for you guys so thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Chenle hums, “but we didn’t score that last winning goal, did we? You did.” He pats Sungchan’s arm. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a really great player.”</p><p>Sungchan flushes, and it takes Chenle a moment to notice but it’s <em>there</em>. The pink hugging his ears and creeping to his cheeks. It’s the first time Chenle has seen him flustered.</p><p>“Thanks,” Sungchan coughs, “I’ll, um, I’ll see you back in the dorms.”</p><p>Chenle feels himself stare.</p><p>“Good night.”</p><p>“Good night,” he says back once coherence has returned to his short-circuit brain. By then, Sungchan is already jogging away.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>What happens is someone manages to smuggle beer to the dorms. They call it Jisung’s late birthday party celebration although Chenle protests it’s been almost two weeks since then.</p><p>“That’s exactly why it’s a <em>late </em>celebration, Chenle-yah,” Yangyang grins, holding a bottle by the neck. He downs half of it and yells, “Canon ball!” before dive-bombing into the balloon-infested couch.</p><p>Things transpire pretty quickly from there.</p><p>By nine, the world’s already spinning. Donghyuck calls him a lightweight but he’s really not. There’s just not much opportunity for him to drink so he never got to build up his tolerance, that’s all.</p><p>Someone is belting out <em>All I Want For Christmas Is You </em>in a terrible falsetto. Senses alcohol-tweaked to tenfold, he drags himself out of the room and stumbles into the nearest quiet nook.</p><p>Renjun closes the refrigerator door and stares at him on the floor.</p><p>“Drink?” he mumbles, hand outstretched like a zombie.</p><p>Renjun’s face contorts to an angry scowl. “No. No more drinks for you,” he says, picking him up from where he’d been praying to the tiles, “Get up. Drink some water and go the fuck to sleep.”</p><p>A low whine rumbles from his chest. “But I wanna see the fireworks.”</p><p>“There are no fireworks, what the hell.” Renjun forces him upright. “Up, up!  And drink this.” He grabs his still-cold glass of water from the counter and practically forces it down Chenle’s throat. “Jesus. You are a mess.”</p><p>“Give me a minute,” he mumbles.</p><p>As Renjun grumbles profanities under his breath (mostly directed to Donghyuck and Yangyang), still holding him up, someone pads into the kitchen. They both turn to see Sungchan looking between them owlishly.</p><p>“Sungchan, hey,” Renjun greets tiredly, then he perks up at an idea, “hey, Sungchan. Listen, I kind of need you to do something. Can you do something for me?”</p><p>Sungchan blinks. “Uh.”</p><p>“Yeah, listen, I kind of need you to take Chenle up to our room. Is that okay?” he nudges Chenle’s bobbing forehead off of his shoulder, fingers warily clasped on his shirt, “That’s okay, right? I’ll give you the keys. Here,” he pushes Chenle off and hands him over to Sungchan who clambers for him clumsily, “Here’s Chenle.” He takes a key out of his pocket. “And here’s the key. He’s all yours now so it’s your problem if he throws up on the carpet.”</p><p>“F—screw you, Renjun-hyung,” Chenle curses with no heat, Sungchan holding him up by the waist.</p><p>“Good night, Chenle,” Renjun says.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Getting him up the stairs isn’t much of a problem. He’s marginally sobered-up by then. Still, he feels the muted spiral between his brows spread all the way to the back of his head so he lets Sungchan hold him.</p><p>He closes his eyes, feeling everything all at once. “Sorry.”</p><p>Sungchan struggles, already on their second flight of stairs, “It’s okay, Chenle. I don’t mind.”</p><p>“Not that.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Chenle gathers up courage enough to last two lifetimes. “Sorry for what I did before break, I mean.” He stands up straighter, leaning less on Sungchan, not wanting to be a burden, “You cut me off the first time I tried to apologize so I wanted to do it properly even though you probably don’t want to hear about it anymore.” He swallows. “Sorry. I don’t—I should have explained things better. I really was planning to, I swear, but I never really got the chance to because you didn’t want to talk about it. I thought I could pretend nothing happened like you were doing but I can’t.”</p><p>Sungchan lets out a deep breath.</p><p>“I just—I really need to know,” Chenle says, “You still like me, don’t you?”</p><p>They arrive in the third floor. Chenle’s door waits on the edge of the hall. “We’re here,” Sungchan says quietly, and Chenle lets go of him, looking at him for signs of anything but the other refuses to catch his eye.</p><p>“Sungchan—"</p><p>“Chenle,” Sungchan cuts, crisp, finally looking back. Even with Chenle’s beer-glassy eyes, he still looks— “If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall, okay?”</p><p>And then he walks away, leaving Chenle to catch his own breath.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Everything kind of spirals down from there. The knife-sharp pain on both his temples the morning after reminds Chenle of his poor decision-making skills and painful realization. It’s beer-induced, he tells himself. It was the moment getting to you and the crappy hallway lights. But then he sees Sungchan in the sunlight (“Oh,” he’d said out loud, startling a hungover Yangyang, “Oh <em>shit</em>.”) and somehow it makes more sense.</p><p>What doesn’t make sense is the events that transpire next.</p><p>Sungchan ignores him. In this situation, <em>ignoring </em>is an understatement. He’s pretty sure he could comb an entire Thesaurus and find zero words describing how much extreme measures Sungchan had taken to avoid him. Chenle is certain he meticulously plans his days the night before just to set himself schedules that are sure to avoid Chenle. And even during the one time they have to cross paths in their shared Music Theory class, Sungchan went straight in front, five chairs away from Chenle, without a single glance his way at all.</p><p>Fucking <em>ouch</em>, that stupid prick.</p><p>Somehow, the situation has worsened enough for Jeno to say something about it.</p><p>“Did you and Sungchan fight or something?” Jeno asks one breakfast.</p><p>Chenle’s face sours. “I don’t know. You ask him.”</p><p>“You guys should talk,” Jaemin urges.</p><p>“Well I <em>would </em>if he weren’t avoiding me like I had a fucking virus,” he spits, standing up. “I’m not hungry anymore.” And then he leaves the kitchen, trail-blazing up to his room, leaving Jeno looking after him unamused and Jaemin with pursed lips. Mark enters the kitchen, frowning.</p><p>“What’s up with Chenle?”</p><p>Jaemin just sighs, stirring sauce into his rice. “Young love.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jisung starts, “Listen, I don’t wanna interfere—"</p><p>“Then don’t,” Chenle interrupts.</p><p>“—but the thing between you and Sungchan has been affecting the entire house lately,” Jisung continues, giving him a stink-eye, “Has it perhaps occurred to you that you could talk to him by cornering him if you actually wanted to?”</p><p>“I don’t want to.”</p><p>Jisung exhales through his nose like he’s tired about the whole thing. “Well you <em>have </em>to,” he says, shaking his head. “Listen, he invited me to dinner tonight.”</p><p>Chenle cuts him a sharp glance. “And?”</p><p>“I could conveniently have something come up last minute,” Jisung says, “and I could conveniently send you to tell him that.” He peeks at Chenle’s face. “Only if you want to, of course.”</p><p>“And if I don’t?”</p><p>Jisung shrugs. “No choice but to enjoy the free ramen I’m getting, I guess.”</p><p>Chenle aggressively types on his laptop, unspeaking.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jisung’s <em>GOOD LUCK YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!!! :-DDDD </em>mocks him from his phone screen. He breathes in one last time before pushing past the double doors of the shop. The way his eyes instantly zero in on Sungchan is almost pitiful. He’d spot that tall brown head a mile away.</p><p>“No backing out, Chenle,” he mutters to himself, walking closer, chanting it in some sort of effort to keep his wits. It works until Sungchan looks up from his phone and sees him.</p><p>He turns back around.</p><p>“Fuck,” he chants this time, “<em>Fuckfuckfuck</em>.”</p><p>“I see and hear you, you know,” Sungchan says from the table.</p><p>It comes automatically. “Shut up,” and then he realizes what he said, “Sorry.” He takes two deep breaths before turning to face the other boy. “Hi,” his voice breaks so he clears his throat and tries again, “Hi. It’s me.”</p><p>Sungchan examines him carefully. “I can see that.”</p><p>“Can I sit?” he asks and situates himself in front of Sungchan when he gestures in agreement. “Jisung sent me here so if you need someone to swear at, pick him.”</p><p>Sungchan lets out a short breath of laughter. “Any particular reason why he did that?”</p><p>“I’m sure you already know.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Chenle levels him with a glance. “You’re a big jerk, Sungchan-ah.”</p><p>Sungchan smiles at that, although it looks more like a wince. “I knew you’d say that.”</p><p>“You’re a big jerk,” he says, “I probably am too. Much of a bigger jerk than you are, most likely, but at least I’m not a coward.” He scowls. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.”</p><p>Sungchan gestures to him. “Obviously.”</p><p>“Say something substantial, damn it!”</p><p>“What do you want me to say, Chenle?” Sungchan bursts, exasperated. “That I accept your apology but it still stings? That it sucks that I decided to forget about all of it and to keep pretending everything’s fine because it’s the only way we’ll stay friends? That whatever I said I felt when I confessed hasn’t wavered one bit despite the fact that you rejected me and it’s almost been two months since?”</p><p>Chenle’s heart lodges itself to his throat. “You still like me?”</p><p>“It’s kind of hard not to,” Sungchan mumbles, cheeks pinking, fingers starting to drum on the table. Restlessly, anxiously. Chenle wants to put his hand over his to stop him but Sungchan would probably combust.</p><p>Actually, they’d both probably combust. Recent development.</p><p>“You like me,” Chenle repeats, breathing, “You still like me. You—wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me then?”</p><p>“Well, you obviously noticed that I still like you because we hang out a lot,” Sungchan chuckles bitterly. “So—you know.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So…” his voice comes out small, “Damage control?”</p><p>Chenle closes his eyes, pained. “I will strangle you,” he says, and then realizes that’s not really something you should say when you’re about to confess. Jaemin would whoop his ass. “You,” he starts, opening his eyes, “and I are both idiots.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’re right,” Sungchan agrees, gaze clueless and darting to everywhere but Chenle’s, “but why?”</p><p>Chenle sticks his tongue in his cheek. “You’re pretty daft.”</p><p>“Okay.” Sungchan looks mildly offended.</p><p>“All these signals and not a single one got to your tall head?”</p><p>“Haha, with the height jokes,” Sungchan says, wrinkling his nose. “Can you get to the point?”</p><p>So Chenle has to spell it out. Okay. He’d been raised by shameless idiots his entire college life so this should be a piece of cake. He can suck up his nerves and do this. “I don’t know how you can’t tell,” he says, “but I like you back.” He feels his chest jack-rabbiting. “I have for a while now.”</p><p>Sungchan blinks wildly. Still registering, probably. He gives it five seconds before Sungchan is saying, “Wait, wait, what?” and eight more seconds for him to screech, “What?” and “Holy shit? What?”</p><p>“Do you need more time?” Chenle says wryly, trying to ignore the flush heating up his neck. “Should I order as you get your bearings?” He stands up, discarding his jacket and leaving it draped to the back of his chair. “I’m getting Miso. What do you want?”</p><p>“Uh,” Sungchan says, racking his brain, “Uh, seafood. Pepsi.”</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>He orders from a funky-haired cashier and tucks his wallet to the back of his jeans when he walks back to the table. Sungchan still looks like a kid that had a recent, harsh discovery about Santa. When Chenle sits in front of him, he snaps out of it to say, “How much do I owe you?”</p><p>“Not much,” Chenle says. “A five-minute long explanation, maybe.”</p><p>Sungchan furrows his eyebrows. “No, I mean.”</p><p>“Oh,” Chenle blinks. “No, I’m paying today.”</p><p>“What? No—”</p><p>“Don’t argue with me on this. Anyway,” he smiles, putting his chin to his palms, and Sungchan’s gaze immediately follows the gesture. Chenle basks in the pleased ruffle in his chest. “I have a lot of questions for you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Trust his friends to get too invested in his life like it’s a soap opera. When he and Sungchan return to the dorms, half the house has convened in the common room to gossip about them. Their mouths immediately snap shut the moment they see the two together.</p><p>Donghyuck, brave as ever, pokes, “So how was the date?”</p><p>“It was fun,” Chenle says, smiling like the devil, “You and Renjun should pay up.”</p><p>“Pay—huh?”</p><p>“You know, from your bet,” he hums, “Yangyang wins at this point, right?” Then he snatches Sungchan’s hand and leads them both up the stairs, Sungchan snickering behind him. The volume of Donghyuck’s shriek reaches the third floor.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(This is how it all begins:</p><p>Sungchan follows him to the fire escape. One minute they’re listening to the muted bass of crappy Christmas songs, the next he’s reaching up to give Sungchan the lightest kiss—lightning quick.</p><p>“I hope you meant that,” Sungchan mutters, “because you’d be breaking my heart if you didn’t.” When Chenle doesn’t respond, he says, “I like you, Chenle-yah.”</p><p>Something in Chenle’s chest constricts so tight he forgets to breathe. “I’m sorry,” is all he says before leaving.)</p>
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